


Thunderbirds Are Go – ‘Rocket Fuel’

by countessofsnark



Series: Booze Bros [1]
Category: Thunderbirds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 03:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15379659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countessofsnark/pseuds/countessofsnark
Summary: Based on a text post by @wonderavianScott: why did I wake up wearing a leash?Virgil: it was for your own safetyVirgil: you were doing backflips off street lamps





	Thunderbirds Are Go – ‘Rocket Fuel’

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a text post by @wonderavian
> 
> _Scott: why did I wake up wearing a leash?_
> 
> _Virgil: it was for your own safety_
> 
> _Virgil: you were doing backflips off street lamps_

Panic gripped Virgil when he shot awake. The empty bottle of beer he had been nursing had rolled down towards the shoreline. In spite of his best intentions, he had dozed off and now Scott was nowhere to be seen. It was the first night of a new year, and Scott had convinced Virgil to join him to Miami’s South Beach. Virgil knew his brother required a watchdog to keep him reigned in when cocktails and booze are involved, which is one of the reasons they’d come here. 

But Virgil wasn’t operating at maximum capacity, not right now. Last night had been a long one – staying up until the wee hours to ring in the new year with a few round of Brains’ most spectacular home made fireworks and some of the most expensive champagne on the planet is a Tracy staple after all. He got up and stretched, groaning softly as he forced his weary limbs to comply. Although his mind was still half asleep, he knew exactly where to locate Scott.

A horrified Virgil stepped inside one of the swankiest Art Deco themed cocktail bars of South Beach to witness a shirtless Scott Tracy dancing on a table, holding a half empty bottle of vodka in his right hand. What may have seemed like dancing to Scott’s boozed up mind actually looked like a reanimated corpse having the time of its afterlife. Virgil swallowed back his pride and made his way towards Scott’s jittery frame. In one smooth move he picked up his brother and flung him across his shoulder. He handed the amused bartender a wad of 100 dollar notes (‘We don’t speak of this. Ever. Understood?’) and hurried back outside, hoping the night air would sober up Scott enough to make the trip back to where Thunderbird 1 had been parked. 

But as soon as Virgil put Scott back on his feet, the latter scooted off with remarkable steadiness towards the nearest street lamp, performing a perfect backflip. 

Virgil gasped and chased after him. This was easier said than done, because even while heavily intoxicated, Scott was deceivingly fast and agile. After the fourth backflip, Virgil got a hold of his prey and, whispering a sincerest ‘sorry, big bro’, pulled down Scott’s jeans and underwear to jab a tranquilizer into his gluteus maximus. He then proceeded to slip a leash around his brother’s neck in case the tranquilizer wore off before they got back to Thunderbird 1.

Virgil was fairly sure Scott wouldn’t mind having to hand over his Bird’s controls to his younger brother. Then again, it didn’t seem like Scott would have any say in this. He was snuggly curled up and snoring away in Virgil’s strong but caring arms.


End file.
